“Who in the fuck are you?” Grayson demanded gruffly and Mickie’s eyes popped open as he jerked the throw blanket from beside her to wrap it around his waist.

Heart pumping hard, Mickie’s head spun she sat up so fast.  She flipped her hair out of her face, and it scorched when she recognized her older brother.  Scooting to the edge of the bed, she reached down to grab the towel she’d dropped when Gray threw her on the bed and wrapped it around herself.

“I’m the man who’s going to put a bullet in your sorry ass for messing around with my sister, testa di cazzo,” Dante growled, his face ruddy as he pointed a pistol at Grayson’s chest.

Grayson’s sole focus was on the barrel of the gun, as he held his whole body rigid.  Legendary temper on full display, Dante stared back at him with murder in his eyes.  Mickie knew if she didn’t intervene fast, her very over-protective brother might very well shoot him.  Dante didn’t issue idle threats―he said they were a waste of time. 

Mickie stood and put herself between them, so Dante couldn’t shoot him. 

“He’s not a dickhead, Dante—and this is not your business!” She pointed her finger to the sliding glass door. “I am an adult, so put that gun away and get out of here.” 

How had he found her here anyway?  Nobody but her neighbor Lucinda, who had Tito, knew where she’d gone.  She’d sworn Lucinda to secrecy—to everyone—but that didn’t mean her big-haired, big-mouthed second mother didn’t tell her brother.  But even if she had told Dante that Mickie was in DC, which is all she knew, it did not explain how he’d found her here in Galveston.

Fear sliced through her at the answer that presented.  “Did your new friends send you here to find me?” Mickie asked, swallowing hard, her eyes dropping to the end of barrel too.

“My friends have no idea where I am, but finding you wasn’t difficult.  I found your purse dog at Lucinda’s, then followed you to Washington. Locating you in DC took a little time, but I have friends everywhere,” he replied with a harsh laugh.

She folded her arms over her breasts and lifted her chin.  “That doesn’t explain how you found me here, Sherlock Holmes.”  Dante blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. 

“Did you know your helicopter pilot has to file a flight plan?  Did you also know I can get all the information I need from researching the tail numbers on that aircraft to find the owner and research him?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” she replied, her fear notching down a bit.

Dante would know all that because he was a Blackhawk pilot in the service, but Mickie didn’t have a clue.  And obviously neither did Grayson, if he didn’t think about that when he made their travel arrangements to come here.

“I won’t even go into that fun little family locator feature on your phone, which broadcasts your location to anyone interested.”  He shook his head. “I assure you my friends will have no problem finding you here either, if the feds don’t get here first.” 

“The feds?” Mickie repeated, her voice squeaking as her blood ran cold.

He scrubbed a hand over his ever-present Italian five-o-clock-shadow, then sighed. “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into, Michaela Giselle?  Extortion, racketeering, money laundering, embezzlement?!?” Dante demanded, his eyes narrowing.  “And now a murder charge?  Why did you whack Uncle Vinny?  Was it for the money?  Did he figure out you’d been siphoning it out of his account?” 

Her stomach fell to her toes then bounced back in place.  “Of course I didn’t whack Uncle Vinny!” she shouted, waving her hands, her heart pounding against her sternum.  “He was dead when I got to the office, so I ran.  As for the money, you and your friends need to be looking for Teresa, not me.  I don’t know anything about it!  They kept me out of that side of the business.”

“They found your lunch bag beside his body, piccolina, your prints on the gun left behind at the scene.  The money was transferred to your account,” he rattled off, and Michaela heard Gray gasp. “So, when the feds find you, you’ll be vacationing in the federal pen for a long time.  It’s an open and shut case according to the prosecutor who obtained the warrant for your arrest.”

Shock rocked Mickie and her feet went numb as they carried her over to her brother. “If the money was transferred to my account, why am I broke?” she asked, her stomach rolling, her mind reeling. “The last time I checked, I had less than ten bucks left in my account when I couldn’t even afford to buy myself a latte!”

“She’s telling the truth, because I bought her coffee,” Grayson said, his voice as dark as that coffee had been.  “The worst mistake of my life.”

Mickie’s insides clenched.  Mistake?  He couldn’t have made a bigger mistake than she had by trusting him, in believing he was charming or chivalrous.  This man’s heart was as hard as his body.  And trusting him to solve her problems had been her second mistake.  Since she’d known him, he had done nothing except insult and now humiliate her.

Dante’s eyes narrowed as they slid behind her to Grayson.  “So you brought her here to get your money’s worth for that purchase?”  Dante raised his hand—the hand with the pistol.  Mickie shot forward to push his arm back down.

“So your friends are trying to kill me and you’re okay with that?” Mickie asked, and his eyes dropped to meet hers, looking hurt.

“Would I be here to warn you if I was okay with it?” he snarled, glaring at her.  “They haven’t mentioned killing you, but they sure want to find you, and their money, before the feds find you.”

“I don’t have their money,” she repeated, her lower lip trembled and his snort told her he obviously didn’t believe her.  That not only hurt her, it pissed her off.

“I came here to warn you—so be warned.” Dante shook his head as he pushed his suit jacket aside to slide the pistol into a holster under his arm.  “I could go to jail, too, for doing that, but Mama is crazy worried about you and so am I.  You need to find somewhere to lay low while I try to figure this out, but this is not the place.  You need protection, and I doubt this stronzo is the man for the job.”

“I can find the money now that I have all of the information,” Grayson said, stepping up beside her, and the odd tone in his voice drew her eyes to him.  “If we find the money, we’ll find the person who stole it—and probably the person who murdered your uncle.” His angry gray-green gaze swung to her and bored in. “I do have all of the information now, don’t I, Michaela?”

“Well, hell is about to rain down on you here, stronzo, so I suggest you find another place to do your research.  I can’t be here when they show up, so I’m out.”  Grayson opened his mouth, but Dante held up his hand. “I don’t want to know where you’re going.  Just keep my sister safe, or I’ll kill you.”

“FBI? ATF? Marshal? Homeland Security?” Grayson asked smoothly, then his eyes fell to Dante’s left hand to zero in on a thick, gold ring with a ruby or garnet in the center, which Mickie had never seen him wearing before. “Never mind, that answers my question.”

It answered hers, too.  Her brother was a mobster now and she couldn’t trust him anymore.  She had to tell her family so they didn’t get dragged into any drama he might get involved in.  But Mickie had drama of her own to worry about at the moment.

“Dio, Dante, why?!?  Does Mama know you’re made?” Michaela asked, as tears burned her eyes and disappointment filled her heart.  

Her brother was a decorated war hero, not a mobster.  Things had happened to him overseas, though, that he’d never fully recovered from when he got back home.  He never found his path back to the light, even though he went through some kind of training in Virginia to try and start a new career, which never materialized.  When it was obvious he was floundering, Uncle Vinny introduced him to his friends and Dante became scarce in Ducktown after that.

“I’ve got to go,” he replied gruffly, as he turned to walk inside.  “Give me your phone so I can drop it off on a slow boat to China at the port.  That should distract them for a while.” 

With a sigh, Mickie walked to the breakfast bar and found her purse.  She pulled out her phone and handed it to him.  As he turned on his heel to walk to the door, she followed him.

“Dante, talk to me!” she shouted, darting around him to lean on the door when he opened it.

He pushed her to the side, but bent down to kiss her cheek.  “Stay safe, piccolina. Ti amo. Always remember that.”

“I’m not a little one anymore!  I’m a grown woman, and I love you too—that is why you need to stay and talk to me!” Hot tears jumped over her lower lids to streak down her face as her frustration built. 

Her brother had inherited entirely too much of their father’s machismo.  He thought he was bulletproof and master of the universe.  He wasn’t either.  And the crowd he was obviously hanging out with these days could, and would, prove that to him very quickly.  He was the one who needed to worry about staying safe.

“I’ve got to go, mimma—I suspect I know where you’re going, so if I get more news, I’ll be in touch.”  Mickie lunged to go after him as Dante walked out the door, but Grayson grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“We’ve got to go too,” Gray said sternly, pushing the door shut.

“But where will we go?” she asked, her shoulders slumping. 

Michaela felt like they’d just reached the end of the line.  She was very tempted just to turn herself over to the FBI and take her undeserved hits.  Once she was out of jail, if she ever got out, she could get on with her life. 

Right now, she had no life to speak of being on the run from one organization who wanted to see her dead, and another who wanted to see her in jail.  She’d just pick her way to go by choosing the lesser of two evils.

Grayson tipped up her chin to meet her eyes.  “Tell me you didn’t do all those things,” he demanded, his eyes intense.  “Tell me you didn’t purposely leave out the fact that money was transferred to your account.  Where is it, Michaela?”

“I don’t know, because I swear I didn’t take it.  I had no idea it was in my account,” she grated, her eyes burning fiercely. 

How could a man who just did what Grayson Jennings did with, and to her, think that?  Better yet, how could a man she’d known all of her life, think that? 

Hopelessness and despair mixed to hollow out her insides.  If they didn’t believe her, the feds and the monsters who were after her surely wouldn’t.

“Did you kill your uncle?” Grayson grated, grabbing her shoulders, having no sympathy even with the now steady stream of tears burning her face.

“No!” Mickie shouted, her temper snapping as she jerked her shoulders from his grip and pushed him away. “And if you think that, and believe I stole that money, you are not the man I should trust to help me.” Mickie hugged herself. “Call Hawk to come and get you.  I’ll just turn myself in and fix this myself.”

“So, if you didn’t kill your uncle, who did?” he asked, his voice calmer.

“Whoever was in the closet—in the safe—at the office, when I got there.  I was lucky to get out alive myself.  I barely escaped and had to hide in a dumpster—” Mickie stopped and swallowed hard when she remembered the notebooks and journal in her purse.  She knew Grayson Jennings would think she didn’t tell him about them on purpose.  He was in that mode of thinking now.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing her shoulders.  “Did you see the killer?”

“No, and I’m glad I didn’t, because he would’ve killed me too.  When I got to my apartment and found my door kicked in, I knew they were after me, and I was terrified.”

Thank goodness Lucinda had picked up Tito who she said was whining and shaking at her door after the three men left.

“What’s wrong, then?” he demanded.

“I found Teresa’s tote bag in the dumpster where I hid.  A few notebooks and her journal were in the bag.  I put them in my purse and forgot about them until now.”

“How could you forget?” he asked loudly and Mickie flinched.  His hands dropped away from her shoulders and he stepped back.  “I asked you to tell me everything you could think of, Michaela, but it seems you left out a lot.  That leads me to wonder why.” 

Those accusing eyes of his said, without any proof he’d already found her guilty of every crime the feds were accusing her of, and probably more.

“I was running for my life!” she shouted, stiffening her spine as she brought her arms up to hug herself. “In DC, I was trying to survive, and since I’ve been here, I’ve been distracted. Our arguments, the oven fire, and…” She dragged her eyes away and blew out a breath. Your kisses are the biggest distraction of all.  They almost made her forget she was in trouble.

“That just doesn’t work as an excuse for me.  Especially after I had to find out from your brother your personal account is involved in this mess.  I asked you for all the information you could think of, so I could help you.  What else aren’t you telling me, Michaela?”

That I thought I might be developing feelings for you, that I liked you, respected you, and now I don’t?

“Nothing—if I’d known my account was involved, I would have told you.  I’ll get you the information on my account and the journal.  That’s all of it…and thank you for helping me put this to bed.” One thing is for sure―you won’t be putting me to bed again. 

Mickie hoped what she gave him would be all he needed to clear her, because then, she’d be free to get as far away from this man as possible so she could forget about him, too.